He felt a brisk wind on his cheek as he stared into rolling grasslands. The world was an empty place. He suppressed his confusion as he held out his right hand to reveal a bloodied axe. A beating drum entered his awareness. As it increased in volume he turned to see its approach behind him. Time slowed down. He struggled to look, but something resisted his movement. His anxiety howled as the beating drum grew louder and finally became deafening. Just as he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, all became black.

Rob felt a heavy burden on his heart. The feeling was difficult to stomach but not unbearable. He reached out into the darkness but could not see his hand. He yelled out but could not hear his voice. Suddenly, the pain was gone, as if drained away from him. He felt extremely light. As he wondered at the emptiness in his heart he found himself in a wide open land of white. In front of him lay a majestic set of wrought-iron gates. The foggy substance at his feet appeared to be clouds but he couldn’t be certain. He looked around and froze when he saw a man standing several meters to his left. He began to walk in that direction but found his movements extremely difficult, as if trudging through sand. Bewildered, he continued his trek until he approached the man and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hello, who are you?” Rob asked the man, and then gasped. The man was looking into a giant pit of fire. The walls were coated in red-hot tar. The heat was overwhelming, causing Rob to take a step back and cover his face. The man glanced back at Rob and then revealed a giant pair of wings. Effortlessly, he floated over to the gates and turned back.

“I am St. Peter. Welcome to the Pearly Gates of Heaven.” Rob was shocked. The gates of heaven? Had he fallen in battle? Rob trudged over to St. Peter where the man, or creature, continued to say, “I guard the gates from those who are not qualified to pass. You must convince me that you are worthy to enter. As I myself rejected the lord God three times in my lifetime before making it into heaven, I shall grant you three tries.” St. Peter stared at Rob blankly.

Rob took this in stride. “Why … why don’t I feel anything? I felt this extremely terrible emotion just before I came here and now I feel nothing.” he said.

St. Peter explained simply, “Many come here from different walks of life. They lived and died in their own way. You must be able to look upon your life with unclouded eyes or you would not be able to objectively determine your worth.” Rob looked down and then wondered at the feeling. He could remember different people and events in his life, but even the most emotional of circumstances was nothing but a blank slate in his heart.

Rob considered. This should be easy. He looked up at St. Peter and said, “I am worthy because I have never brought harm or injustice to someone who did not deserve it.” **

The sun was hidden by rolling clouds. He swung his axe and took the arm off of a passing horseman. Chaos ensued. He was being flanked. If he didn’t get his men to high ground they would be crushed. Pike-men quickly staved off the unexpected invasion. Where would he run? A sudden scream to his left distracted him. A man pointed toward the sky. A sense of dread overcame him, but as he turned to look, time slowed down yet again. The drums started their all too familiar beat. And once more, blackness consumed him.

Rob felt like throwing up. The world around him was spinning. This unnatural feeling was as if several family members died and he was forced to grieve them all simultaneously. Why was this happening? The darkness spanned as far as his eyes could see.

“My eyes,” he thought as he reached up to feel them. But when he did, there was nothing there. Rob felt intensely agitated. He screamed and reached out to strike at empty space but felt no resistance. Only his thoughts existed here.

“That is not correct,” said a voice in front of him. Rob looked up to see St. Peter looking at him expectantly. The Pearly Gates had reddened, the sky was darker and the fog below had receded partially. St. Peter’s wings also appeared a bit darker which made him more intimidating somehow.

“What?” replied Rob. He felt disoriented. The painful feelings were gone, and he felt rational again. “Not correct? Surely … surely being merciful and just would qualify one for entering heaven,” he said. Rob balled his right hand into a fist. Something was different. He felt heavier somehow. Was he feeling anxious? “If that’s not it, then what is the difference between the damned and the chosen?”

St. Peter gave a soft grunt before saying, “Each person is different. The nature of their deaths has a large influence on whether they are admitted or not.”

“Then how did I die?” Rob asked.

“That is not for me to reveal. Now, make your second argument,” St. Peter said before looking into the distance.

“Well that was quite a guttural yell,” came a voice from behind. Rob turned to see a woman standing a few paces away. “Were you sounding a war cry? I’ve never heard anything quite like it,” she said before smiling. St. Peter raised an eyebrow at her appearance. Surprised, Rob turned to St. Peter to ask if she was part of the test. St. Peter only shrugged his shoulders. Rob looked back, and felt a shock. He remembered his wife. She was a beautiful, strong woman. Suddenly, he knew the answer.

“I am worthy because I led a charitable life, and I made people happy,” he said. **

The faint trickle of rain could be heard on the surrounding stones. He knelt, focused on a mountain of bodies pierced with iron arrows. His arms bound behind him, he waited. He heard the terrified groans of his men behind him and felt immense regret. The bonds of family were severed so many times this day. The enemy general approached, cut his bonds and placed the knife in front of him. Honor. If he did this, his men would live as slaves, but they would live. He looked down at the knife, and then the blackness took him again.

Rob felt an unbearable sadness. As he tried to understand what was happening to him, he couldn’t help but scream. It felt as though the sadness of fifty different people was conflated into a single mind. He began to run in the darkness.

“Oh, how can I make this stop!” he yelled. He dropped to his knees and grasped at his chest but felt nothing but open air. He screamed again. He thought about his predicament and the senselessness he faced. If a just man is not charitable nor merciful, then what is he? As he yelled he tried to rise again and strike indiscriminately in front of him. The woman grasped his shirt as the darkness turned to light. The Pearly Gates were fully red now. The sky was dark and St. Peter gave off a demonic look. The mists had receded completely.

“Once again, you are not correct,” said St. Peter.

“I committed suicide,” he said as he calmed himself. The woman released him and took several steps back. Rob felt a continuing sadness. Unlike his previous experiences, the feelings did not completely disappear this time.

“Those who have committed suicide typically do not make it to heaven,” said St. Peter before shaking his head.

“I was loved. And I loved people in return. People followed and looked toward me for justice,” said Rob. “How is that not living a worthy life? How is it that God does not feel the need to face me himself at this moment and tell me this? What of you St. Peter? Does following in the footsteps of the lord make you a person worthy of heaven?” St. Peter said nothing.

“I think the people who go to heaven are followers, not leaders,” said Rob. He rose, and walked toward the fiery pit. Glancing down, he turned back toward St. Peter. “The people that really need a leader are the ones willing to risk everything. Yes, maybe even the murderers.” Again, St. Peter said nothing.

“Someday, all energy in the universe will coalesce and be uniform. When the barriers between the dimensions are no more, the burning embers of hell will overflow and there will be a reckoning,” he said.

“There have been those that have tried before,” said St. Peter.

Suddenly, Rob had a thought. Maybe, sometimes you must help people by hurting them, and that will ultimately make them happy. He pondered this useless thread of consciousness as the tipped his feet and fell backward into the pit. The woman gasped and made her way toward the pit, trudging through the clouds still visible to her. St. Peter left the gate and floated over. Looking into the fiery pit, St. Peter saw Rob’s skin burned away by the red hot tars lining the ring. He saw agony and pain and torture as he disappeared below. The woman saw a fiery red emblem as a robin flew toward freedom.

The woman looked up toward St. Peter. The reflection of flames appeared as a glint within her eyes. He considered it very striking. “If this great being, God, is so omnipotent, why doesn’t he greet every individual at his gates?” St. Peter stared at her blankly.

The woman looked into the pit below and then at the Pearly Gates before asking, “In a battle between the heart and the mind, which should win?”

St. Peter considered before saying, “Humans are a peculiar species. I would say the heart usually wins.”

“That’s the most realistic thing you’ve said so far,” she said. She jumped into the pit and smiled up toward him as she fell. The hair on her skin and head burned away, but her skin remained intact, protected by a glowing blue energy.

St. Peter looked down into the pit for a few minutes. A moment later, a pat came on his back. Turning, he saw a confused person masking their face from the heat below. He looked toward the gate and began to spread his wings. Thinking about it, he instead trudged through the clouds. He placed his right arm around the man and said, “Did you ever hear how it took St. Peter three times to accept the lord and make it into heaven?”